


Attached

by llamadrama (der_erlkonig)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, but the power dynamic makes it sketchy, i mean it's implied mutual, non con rating just in case, soooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_erlkonig/pseuds/llamadrama
Summary: Your classic Voldemort/OC story. Voldemort does what he wants and makes a young female Death Eater his mistress. Naturally, she catches feelings, and he may have as well but does his best to pretend he didn't.Enough elements of cute to make you root for them as a couple, enough darkness to make it believable. At least, that's the plan. Set in a Voldemort wins AU. It's a rewrite of something I wrote over five years ago that was received well, but I came so far as a writer I had to redo it for my own sanity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my own work. I wrote the original version of this, “This Strange Desire” on ff.net when I was 20 as a rewrite to something ghastly I wrote as a teenager. I thought it was hundreds of times better than the *original* original (the title and location of that one I will protect with my life). Now that I’m an old woman (read: 25) TSD seemed...well, let's just say I initially wanted to just switch it out with the rewrite so no one would see the evidence. If I’m going to write a OC/Voldemort romance I’m finally going to do it *right* and *in character.* But I decided to leave the old one up and divulge it's location to you because I've come SO FAR as a writer and I want to show that. So now, even if I am writing OC/canon trash, it’s now trash I can be super proud of. Enjoy.

From her place on the porch Cassandra wasn’t perfectly able to hear every word of the argument inside, but she didn't need to know what they were saying to know they were arguing about her. Why they even bothered at this point was unknown; whatever conclusion they would come to would be meaningless now. They knew that, she knew that. It was done already. 

_ “This is your fault!”  _ Her mother was livid, a rare breach of peace in the aura of calm and order she tried so hard to maintain.  _ “You and Jeff poisoning my baby girl with these ideas-” _

_“She's nineteen, Isimine!”_ That was her father. Jumpy, passionate, relentless. They usually balanced one another out. But children are a unique variable. _“She's more than old enough to understand the consequences of her actions!”_

Cassie laughed bitterly, resting her elbows on the porch railing, fingers of her right hand fiddling absently with the hem of her left sleeve. Jeff wasn't around. He was smart enough to lay low with a friend, wait it out, though once mother found out he'd been the enabler, there'd be hell to pay. But Cassie- Cassie had had to come home and break the news to her mother. She stood on the porch and half-listened to the fight, knowing her mother would seek her out soon enough.

_ “She knows, Is. She knows she'll get hurt and she has the passion and drive to not care.” _

No one was naive enough to use “if” when it came to the Death Eaters. If you joined, you  _ were _ going to get hurt, whether it be by the enemy on the battlefield or the Dark Lord himself. The real question was how often.

_ “She's foolish, that's what she is. Just like Jeff. But at least she had a choice. And she threw it away.” _

Cassie sighed. That's what her mother couldn't understand. She had a choice. Jeff, the oldest son of a respectable pureblood family, was pressured into it; the last thing they'd needed was an accusation of lack of faith if -when- the Dark Lord won. But Cassie? She could have chosen to never take the mark, no questions asked. But she did. Didn't that mean she was just as sure, in her decision as her brother? Maybe even more so?  But to her mother, it was an act of defiance. And maybe it was. Maybe defiance played a larger role than she cared to admit.

Cassie peeled back her left sleeve to reveal the skull and serpent tattoo on her forearm. Then again...she'd thought she would regret it by now. She didn’t.

 

–

It was hard. Harder than she had expected, and she had set a low bar. The atmosphere was tense; even after acceptance there was this constant need to prove oneself, and while Cassie had assumed she could do so easily, she soon realized Voldemort made nothing easy.

 

The first time he was angry with her, she thought she was going to die. His anger was so thick Cassie could feel it weighing down her lungs with each breath. The young man kneeling beside her shook violently; on the other side of him, another young man hadn’t dared move, his eyes closed, perhaps not to see what was coming. She had attended Hogwarts with each one, knew them by name, had counted them as friends. They’d all joined at the same time, just weeks earlier. But here, none of that seemed to matter. 

“My Lord, it was their fault” the shaking man said at once, willing to deflect the blame onto the people on either side of him.

Cassandra bit her tongue, her anger surpassing her fear. He helped get them into this mess just as much as she did. But she couldn't argue her case unless asked. 

“Did Nott force you act as you did? Did he put you under the imperious curse? Or perhaps Cass incapacitated you. Perhaps she forced you to watch their actions, helpless and unable to impart your knowledge onto them. ” Voldemort’s voice was cold, mocking.

Cassie tried not to smirk at the quick retaliation, knowing it would come back to bite her if it was seen.

“You're equally responsible for this mess, and you know it. You will pay the price equally.”

-

 

It was the next day when she realized the Dark Lord had referred to her as Cass, the name her school friends had used. She’d shed it upon graduation, introduced herself as Cassandra now, but friends still used it- like the young men she’d trained with. That’s how he must have picked it up. She didn’t mind it. Far better he’d picked up on Cass rather than Cassie- the name her father and brother called her. 

 

-

 

When you're brought up in an image conscious Slytherin family, you're taught to not half ass anything- at least, not anything important. Cassie took this to heart, throwing herself into the war as it unfolded. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, yet there was still a nagging  _ off _ feeling in the back of her mind. 

What if her father, her, and Jeff were all killed in the war? What then? Her little sister was heading off to France after hogwarts, presumably to study art, though Cassie assumed it had more to do with getting out of the chaos more than anything. If everyone died, if Anne was abroad...what would happen to her mother? 

Not to mention most of the other Death Eaters were men. Older, younger, it didn’t matter: she felt she had to prove herself even more so than the others her age. She had to prove she could be here, too, to men who had grown up with conservative views and who made it very clear they thought most women were too fragile and delicate to do the actual fighting of the war. 

It didn’t stop her, though. Just made her fight harder. 

 

-

 

It was curious, how she could kill without thinking now. How she could lose herself in a fight, in an assignment. How the war still raged around her, but it had become white noise, something she could push past. The adrenaline of the fight was like a high, and she started seeking it out. She started enjoying it.

  
  


-

 

“You know how the Dark Lord chose to teach Anders Dolohov, and he was being a prat about it?” Cassie stood next to her brother, looking at the remnants of the battlefield. It had been two weeks since the battle of Hogwarts, but it looked like it could have happened yesterday. The cleanup was painful, the stalemate it left behind in place of the clear victory was worse.

“Yeah, I mean it's kind of a big deal, though, so I let it fly. Anders’s been a prat since first year.. A brilliant prat, obviously, I mean he's being mentored by the Dark Lord, but...”

“Yeah.” Cassie kicked at some debris as she thought this over. “Well, Anders can shut up now because the Dark Lord’s going to teach me, too. He pulled me aside after the briefing last night. He saw me fight, said I had potential.”

“What?” There was a pause. 

“You’re not happy for me.” 

“No- I mean yes- I mean...Wow, that's...wow. Good job.” Jeff laughed. “It’s just, that means you’re going to be fighting more, isn’t it? But I knew something like this would happen, the way people have been talking about you. Glad one of us was successful at this whole Death Eater thing,” Jeff said with a shrug. “Ah, I just want a cubicle. I want to be boring, Cassie. I'm done with the fighting, the mess, the instability. When the war's won, I'm going to ask the Dark Lord to stick me in the most dullest department he can think of and leave me there.”

“Haha, you're so lame, Jeff.” She elbowed him, smirking.

“Lame means alive, Cassie. Don’t mock me.”

 

-

 

Every once in awhile she noticed he would consider her, as though he was contemplating something. She learned to accept it, and it was added to the list of reasons he was confusing as well as terrifying. But he was a fantastic teacher, something she hadn't expected. In another life, another world, he could have made an excellent professor- and she wasn't alone in this thinking. She'd heard the same from others the Dark Lord had taught over the years, when she spoke to them- and not just from Bellatrix, who tended to put him on a fairly cringeworthy pedestal. Most of his students went on to rank highly- the most known names from the first war, for example, had all been those who had the privilege of learning from the Dark Lord.

She admired him; his intelligence, how he carried himself, his words, his ideas. Over time, that admiration grew until she wasn't exactly sure what to make of it. It embarassed her to some degree, made her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on a particularly brilliant professor. Sometimes she wondered if this was how it had started with Bellatrix. If it had been respect, admiration, and then suddenly devotion. An overpowering love for the man who taught her. Cassie could see how such a thing could happen...and she resolved to never let herself get that far. She’d keep herself in check, never let any of that admiration show beyond what was expected. If she let it slip, it meant it was something he could use against her. To control her, to leave her hanging on his every word, the way Bellatrix did. No. She had to reign any feeling she had for the man in at once.

 

-

Anders was still an awful prat; learning with him was bad enough, but working with him was worse. This time, his attempt to show off had backfired badly, and after dropping him off in the makeshift infirmary that was the Malfoy’s basement, Cassie decided to take advantage of the late night quiet. She retreated to a deserted corner of the manor and threw herself into practice. Lost in her own thoughts and concentration as she attempted a spell she never could quite master, she didn't realize anyone was watching until she was able to, at last, produce the intended result.

“Once is an accident,” Voldemort said softly. “Do it again.”

Cassandra turned, startled at his voice. Her hand shook as she raised her wand and attempted the spell again, this time knowingly being watched. It was so  _ quiet, _ was there anyone else around? She didn't think she had ever been this alone with the Dark Lord before- even when he taught her, you could hear people in other rooms; the building was always busy during the day.

Cassie hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she completed the spell successfully, giving an exhale of relief as she did so.

“Twice is a coincidence,” Voldemort said with a shrug. “Three times, that proves competence. Again.”

She nodded, raising her wand again, flinching as he came up beside her, and into her field of vision. He wordlessly adjusted her wand arm before taking a slight step back, allowing her to cast the spell. To her surprise, it was easier that time. 

“Good,” he said circling in front of her. “Very good.” 

Their eyes met, and suddenly he was leaning in, catching her by surprise as his lips met hers.

Cassie’s instinct was to kiss him back as she tried to process all of it; the act itself, the intensity, his unexpected warmth... All too soon he pulled away, and all the positive feelings that came with the kiss replaced themselves with a bewildered fear. She took a step back, studying his face.

“Keep practicing,” was all he said, nodding to the wand in her hand before he left.

-

 

“Cassandra, stay a moment.”

Cassie hung back, watching the others leave, only briefly wondering what he wanted. A flicker of a thought passed regarding what had happened the week before, but there was a crisis down at Diagon Alley, surely he wanted to speak to her about the intelligence meeting- 

Voldemort said nothing as he approached her; just reached out and brushed her hair away from her face.

The softness of his touch startled her, as did the kiss that followed. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his waist. It was the first time she'd deliberately touched him, and she hesitated when she realized what she'd done, but he made no movement in objection. 

He leaned in again, kissing her harder, more urgently; she thought perhaps she should be nervous, wary, but she didn't care- she wanted more.

“You need to go, Cass,” he said, pulling back, frowning. “They'll be needing you down at the alley.”

“Yes my lord.”

 

-

 

“They ambushed us, my lord, there were five, maybe more. We weren't ready-”

“Gather some others- Rosier, Nott, whoever's in the next room- and go take it back, _ or don't come back at all _ ” Voldemort hissed, and the three before him stood, Cassie included.

“My Lord” one of Cassie's comrades – he was so new, so untrained, she was supposed to be teaching them – said, struggling to stand. “We're injured, can we wait-”

“ _ Crucio” _

Cassie had learned by now not to show emotion when this happened, or she would be next. She stared at her feet, trying to ignore the blood still seeping from a cut on her side. It was supposed to be easy. She had to babysit these two kids, barely eighteen, and hold a post for two days. So, so simple.

“You leave  _ now _ , understand? Wait. Cass, you stay.”

“Cassandra's the only reason we're not dead-” the boy who hadn't been cursed protested.

“Well hopefully for you Rosier will be just as effective.  _ Get out. _ ”

“I'm sorry-” Cassie began, once they were gone, but he held up a hand.

“I betrayed your location. I knew you’d be attacked.” 

“What? But we- they had no chance of being successful,” Cassie said, a touch of bitterness in her words. “They could have been killed, you set them up to fail.” 

“If you recall, I did the same to you just a few years ago. Weeds out the incompetent. If they died it wouldn't have been a huge loss.  _ You _ of course were coming back, even if it was alone. And  _ watch your tone _ with me, Cass. You may be my best student but that is no excuse for hostility.”  

There was a pause as Cassandra took this in, focusing more on the complement than the reprimand.

“Let me see that cut-” Voldemort said, cutting through the silence. “Go downstairs and get that taken care of- no, wait, don't waste their time, they have enough to deal with. I can heal it.”

She held her breath as he reached out, his fingers brushing her bare skin as he lifted her shirt just enough for him to see the still bleeding wound.

“It's not that deep,” he commented with a frown. “Easily fixable.”  He pulled his wand, bringing it to the wound, and Cassie flinched involuntarily. He raised an eyebrow, smirking for just a moment before finishing the spell. “There,” he said, nodding. “That’s taken care of.”

“Thank you m-” 

His lips were on hers before she could finish the sentence, kissing her hungrily. 

“I’ve wanted you for quite a long time, Cass,” he whispered, pulling away just an inch. “And tonight, I think I shall have you.” His hand wrapped into her hair as he pulled her head back, kissing her roughly, finally claiming her. 

She’d wanted this. For weeks, now, she’d imagined this moment. Still, it was disorienting. She allowed him to take her hand and guide her upstairs, towards his chambers. She leaned into him and kissed him just as deeply as he had kissed her. She reveled in his touch, his taste, his scent. But he was the Dark Lord. He was commanding, cruel, unyielding, she had to do as he said or else-  but, she reminded herself, she'd wanted this. She’d wanted this. 

 

-

 

“Where've you been?”

“Fighting a war, Jeff,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Been busy.”

“Mum says you didn't come home three nights this week.”

“That's nice. I was attacked the first night, you know. Babysitting those two idiots barely out of Hogwarts. I mean  _ I'm _ fine, but I pretty much had to do the work of three people- I really think the Dark Lord intended them to die and just wanted to show me off in the process. I bloody hate people, sometimes. Spent that night in the infirmary. Thursday I was on guard at the Ministry, and last night I was otherwise busy.”

“It was just a comment on how you're being overworked, but now I have to wonder; why so defensive?”

“I'm not defensive. You asked a question.”

“I figured you had a war to fight, just saying what Mum said.” Jeff shrugged. “Though- why'd you lie to me?”

“What?”

“You weren't in the infirmary Tuesday night. I was doing a shift down there.”

Cassie froze. “You were?” 

“Also, I heard your injuries were minimal. You wouldn't have spent the night. Lucius Malfoy said last time he saw you on Tuesday, it was round ten pm, and you and those boys were headed in to tell Dark Lord you'd been attacked. Said you looked the best out of the group by far.”

“That's nice. I’ll have to thank him for that compliment.”

“Said you never came back out.”

“Bloody  _ hell _ he gossips like a schoolgirl.”

“Cassie, he was hinting you’d gone upstairs with-  _ was he right _ ?”

“Mum can't know.”

“Oh my god. Cassie, are you ok?”

“I'm fine. It’s completely mutual, and I know what I'm doing. I'm just going to enjoy it and then in a few months when he gets bored with me I'll move on with my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Don't get attached.”

“Oh dear lord I'm not that stupid, Jeff.”

 

-

She'd promised Jeff she wasn't that stupid. She'd swore to herself she could do this without any sort of problem. But even so, she began to anticipate those nights she spent in the Dark Lord's bed. She  _ was _ getting attached, though she didn't want to admit it. He was just so...interesting. Everything about him fascinated her, and she hoped he would never find out how she felt. The very thought of it was embarrassing. He'd never understand, he'd use it against her. He'd toy with her, like he did Bellatrix. No, this was something that had to absolutely stay to herself.

 

-

The war was won nearly four years to the day after she had entered it. It was a surreal moment, one she hadn't really thought of other than abstractly. Jeff was given his cubicle- really an office- as head of the zoning board. He was in heaven. 

Cassandra, on the other hand, was given a much more interesting role carrying out policy- though she also helped out wherever needed in the fledgling infrastructure. She soon found that people listened to her, respected her opinion; at 23, she had become a seasoned veteran. It was almost funny. 

The next few months passed in a blur of acclamation and orientation, though throughout, she had kept a consistent presence in the dark Lord's bed. Somehow she had become less of a fleeting amusement than she thought.

 

It was around this time when her father began acting strangely; whispering with her mother, asking cassie questions about what she planned on doing with her future, if she was seeing any nice young men, and the like. He was a traditional man, and Cassie knew by way of her mother that he was making plans to find a husband for his daughter. Cassie wasn't concerned. If she didn't like whoever it was her father chose, she'd just refuse. Her father couldn't force her to do anything.

 

After a few whirlwind weeks of running around the ministry, engaging in skirmishes with a relentless resistance, and expertly evading her father, Cassie was called to meet with the Dark Lord, alone, in his study. The location of the request put her off slightly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had done something wrong. 

“Yes?” she asked, hesitant to enter until he called her inside, and even then she felt like she was trespassing. The room was smaller than expected, but in other ways just as she pictured it. A large oak desk with clawed feet took up much of the floor space. Shelves of books covered the walls. A fire roared in the stone fireplace. There was very little light; there was no window.

“Cassandra. Shut the door. I need to speak with you.” He paused. “As I'm sure you've noticed, your father's been... concerned about you.” He smirked. “Now that the war is over and you're not needed on the battlefield, he wishes to see you married off, settled somewhere. You know what that would mean, of course. You'd be expected to have children, to step down from your new duties with the Ministry to raise them- was that something you wanted, Cass? You're quite talented, teaching you all this time would have been a waste...”

“No,” she hissed angrily, momentarily forgetting who she was addressing. Her voice softened. “No, my Lord.”

“I thought not.” There was a pause. “He came to me, asking if there was someone I thought would be an appropriate match for you. He said he trusted my judgement. I suggested myself.”

Cassandras stomach dropped, her breath catching in her throat at the seriousness of the suggestion. She couldn't have heard properly. He wasn't the type to marry, to desire a relationship in that way, there had to be some mistake...she blinked a few times to steady herself; the room seemed to be spinning.

“Excuse me?” her voice sounded very far away.

“I am the head of the country now, Cass. Appearances matter. I am in need of a wife, your family believes you are in need of a husband.” He shrugged. “Talented, diplomatic, and you're already in my bed more often than not…” he smirked. “You're the obvious choice. We'll be married this December. Our engagement will be public knowledge next week, so prepare yourself.”

“I-” she faltered, vaguely registering he had taken her hand, had slid a simple silver ring onto her finger. It was smooth; the diamond, flanked by two small emeralds, was set into the band. She couldn't have chosen better herself. It was beautiful. “I-” she started again, not exactly sure what to say. “My Lord...”

He cut her off with a possessive kiss, fingers tangled in her hair as his lips moved from her mouth down to her ear.

“ _ Mine _ .”

 

-

 

Jeff was waiting for her when she returned to her parent’s home. Dazed, she walked softly across the parlor towards her brother, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The only man in the world she wouldn't dare say no to, and now his ring sat on her finger. 

“I heard,” Jeff said as she sat down beside him. “I'm sorry.” 

She didn't say anything, just stared at her feet. There was nothing to say, not really. “Cassie-” he started again, leaning forwards and resting his head in his hands.

“Don't,” she said, shaking her head. “You don't need to say anything.” She sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I should write Annie.” 

“I tried, tried to convince father to somehow say he didn't think it would be a good idea, make excuses to him why you wouldn't be a good match but he wouldn't-”

“You knew?” Cassandra asked, turning towards him. “You knew and you didn't think it would be nice to give me a heads up? I was thrown into this-” She felt sick, and the room had started spinning again, so she closed her eyes to combat the feeling. 

Marriage was far more than sleeping in someone's bed a few nights a week, and she didn't expect him to be an exceedingly kind husband. He would be possessive, more so than he already was with her. He was already an unforgiving, cold, harsh man, and yet-

And yet, buried deep in the pit of her stomach, she was excited. She'd slipped, allowed herself get attached over the past year, and the idea that she wouldn't have to let him go was a comforting one. She'd stand beside him as his wife, he'd call her Cass in front of the entire country- Perhaps now it was a good thing she'd gotten attached. Perhaps she should give in and allow herself what she had been denying for so long- to fall in love with him. It seemed more than reasonable now, even necessary. And it had been a struggle, trying to hold it back... she wouldn't have to lie to herself any more. If she loved him, she reasoned, it would make life by his side more bearable, perhaps even enjoyable. This hope was something. Not much, but something.

 

-

 

The world seemed detached, incredibly far away. She felt as though she didn't belong, sitting down for dinner with her family as if nothing had happened.

She didn't say a word until the end, when she murmured she was done as she pushed her plate away.

“This isn't like you, Cassie,” her mother observed. “You barely touched your food. And you haven't said a word all night. Are you ill?”

“Oh, I'm absolutely fine, thanks for asking,” Cassie said bitterly, looking up at her mother, who had managed to avoid the wildfire of a topic all evening.

“Cassandra,” the woman tried again. “Please. You have to eat.”

“I'm not hungry.” Under the table, she twisted the ring on her finger again and again.

-

Cassandra stood beside him, scanning the crowd in front of her. His hand was in hers, she realized. Had they ever held hands before? Perhaps not, but there would be quite a lot of public hand holding in the days and weeks to come as Lord Voldemort showed off his new pet.

Now, he spoke of how Cassandra was chosen to be his wife, his words tailored to make the whole thing more sentimental than it actually was. Cassie showed no surprise at this; he had read the speech to her the night before. What she didn't know was that he'd come to do this regularly, his way of practicing. This was something that Cassie would hang on to, a trait that made him more human.

She felt, for the first time in years, that she was in over her head. She suddenly felt so young, so inexperienced - who thought it would be a good idea for her to marry any world leader, never mind  _ him _ ?

Over time, she would stand beside him during countless speeches, but at this moment, she thought she’d never get used to it. She tried to assure herself she would.  

Her breath caught as he referred to her as Cass. The whole country and beyond would know, now, that was what he called her. It made her feel better.

A photo of them would grace the next morning's front page; the article would call the whole thing a “well matched political union.” It would point out that Cassie had looked at him “with reverence” and that Voldemort, in turn, looked upon Cassandra with a “rare kindness.” He would laugh at this as he read it aloud to her the next morning. She’d hang onto the phrase “rare kindness” for weeks, wondering if it was true.

 

After the engagement was announced, the Ministry felt crowded, stifling. Cassandra attempted to hide her face with her hair as she walked into the meeting - the first since the announcement. The council- all those who held the Dark Mark- was still assembling, and Cassie could feel the stares even with her eyes closed. When she opened them, Bellatrix was shooting her scathing looks across the room.

“Ignore my sister.” Narcissa whispered coolly, coming over to place a hand on Cassie's shoulder. “She's just hurt you know. But inside, she knows exactly how you feel.” She looked Cassandra over. “How are you?”

“I've been better,” Cassie mumbled, avoiding the gaze of her father as he tried to make eye contact. Jeff, always late, hadn't yet arrived. “It should have been her.”

“I'm not so sure.” narcissa whispered. “You have the better temperament, you're young, a cleaner slate. I understand his logic.”

“Bella would have killed for my place” cassie said bitterly. “She should have had it.” yet even as she said it, another part of her was glad she had won. Glad it wasn't the other woman who was chosen.

“be careful. She still might try,”

Cassie nodded, not really concerned at the idea of yet another who wanted her dead. She was distracted, her eyes kept flickering to the empty space reserved for  _ him _ . The Dark Lord. He hadn't entered, not yet. She toyed with the ring on her finger, hand firmly entrenched in her pocket.

Narcissa nodded sympathetically as Cassie sat, and Draco, not far off, gave her a small smile, which she managed to return. She'd always seen Draco as a younger brother; slightly annoying, but endearing, in his own way. She didn't like seeing him here. She felt he was too young. She realized this must be the feeling her brother had felt towards her when  _ she  _ was nineteen.

A hush swept over the room as Voldemort entered. Cassie couldn't take her eyes off him. 

 

-

The war may have been over, but it's never so simple for those who fought in it. Adjusting to ministry life was difficult, and soon after the war's conclusion she had begun to have nightmares, ones she kept to herself. She'd wake up sitting bolt upright, covered in cold sweat- and from the start she feared this happening while she slept beside the Dark Lord. What would he think of her?

Of course the inevitable happened- the odds were never in her favor here. Just days after the engagement was announced she woke up one night, crying out as she sat up, shaking. She didn't realize where she was or that she wasn't alone until she heard his voice.

“A dream.”

She didn't move, paralyzed by a mix of fear and embarrassment, shaking still, though she couldn't remember the details of the dream. She never could.

She flinched as he touched her arm, but relented as he began to stroke her hair.

“Cass, come now, back to sleep... You're shaking.” The last two words sounded confused, as though he didn’t quite know what to do with this information.

“I-” but her words were choppy, disjointed. “They attacked - I - have to, I-”

“The war has been won, pet. You are not in any danger.” He pulled her gently back down, allowing her to rest her head on his chest, a rare gift. “Sleep, pet.” 

Pet. There it was again. He'd never called her that before, but it was fitting, wasn't it? She ran the word over in her head. Pet. She liked it. She relaxed just a little. 

He'd never held her like this before, she realized, letting out a slow exhale as she decided to believe him. She was safe here. She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat.

-

The  _ Prophet _ loved to cover the two of them. They seized onto it with a fervor as though it were the highest importance, and Voldemort in turn performed his part well, suddenly making sure he was seen out with Cassandra nearly once a week.

Speculation was everywhere. Were they a genuine couple? They couldn't be. At least not on _ his  _ end.

As much effort as he put in to capture attention, Cassie put in to look calm, almost detached. The last thing she needed was for her to be known as a hanger on, a tragic case, a woman hopelessly in love with a man who could never love her in return. Even if it was true.

-

Meanwhile, her jobs at the ministry were becoming increasingly important. She knew why, of course. He was teaching her, poising her to be his right hand. It was fitting, as she was going to be his wife. He'd made it very clear to her that one of the key reasons he had chosen her as his wife was her tactfulness and relative calm, thus confirming narcissa’s theory that he needed someone with restraint and diplomacy (thus ruling Bellatrix out). Cassandra didn't mind. 

-

 

Annie hadn't come. Her mother had said this softly as Cassie ate her breakfast the day of the ceremony. She spoke hesitantly, as though not to hurt her daughter’s feelings.

”It's fine,” Cassie said, taking a sip of orange juice. “I wasn't expecting her, after that last letter.” The letter Jeff had tried to hide from her, as though Cassie was suddenly breakable, the letter that said it would be best if they stopped communicating. 

Cassie stood, glancing at the clock. Four hours. Her mother asked if she needed help getting ready, and Cassie shrugged. She had four hours. Not enough time, too much time. Jeff's wife, Clara, had offered to come by, but Cassie said no. She had a friend coming over instead. Clara was nice and all, but she was so happy, so very happy, ever since her and Jeff got married a few months ago. Cassie didn't want to spoil her happiness, and also just didn't want that happiness around her.

It was silly, Cassie thought, looking at herself in the mirror. There was an hour now. It seemed like it was a mere seconds ago she had four hours. And in seconds, it would be time. In seconds, she would be his wife.

 

Her dress was perfect, off the shoulder, cascading. The only thing decorating her hair was a small red poinsettia flower pinned behind her ear. It contrasted nicely with the black of her hair. She couldn’t have looked more perfect, she thought with a nervous laugh.

It was snowing when they were married. Like a postcard. She hadn't known what would happen when she came down the aisle- she was afraid her face would betray her fear and she tried her hardest to stamp it down before she came out- but she then ran the risk of looking emotionless. It turned out her fears were unfounded- looking back at the pictures, she realized she had been staring at the Dark Lord with genuine adoration.

-

 

“ _ Pet, _ ” he murmured, the door to his chambers - no,  _ their _ chambers - closing softly behind them. He kissed her, a rough kiss, one filled with lust as he pinned her against the wall, his body against hers. “My  _ wife _ .” He let out a short laugh, pulling back to look at her before reaching out and taking the poinsettia from behind her ear, setting it on the mantle. “I belive that went well, pet,” he said, his fingers running through her hair. 

Cassandra smiled slightly herself, her eyes meeting his. “It did,” she agreed, watching as he took her hand in both of his, first tracing her wedding ring, then trailing his finger along the outline of her Dark Mark. The two symbols of his ownership. 

His own ring caught her eye. She rather liked the sight of that. 

 

-

Being his wife was difficult. He was kinder than expected, that much was true, but his possessiveness was stifling, as he preferred to keep her close, a prized possession. She found herself having to ask permission to have dinner with her brother, to go out outside of work. 

Cassandra began to take longer hours at the Ministry, just to evade him. At home, she felt trapped, controlled, and even looked forward to the nights where he didn’t come home, as heartbreaking as they were.  Cassandra was never meant to live that way. Over the weeks, with no release or freedom, her anger began to fester. She felt the person she was, the woman who was afraid of nothing, dissolve into a latent anger of nightmares and frustration. She thought about running away, and then would instantly regret the idea. A half dozen defiant letters to her sister were drafted in her mind. She was a dam ready to burst. 

 

And then one day, after nearly a year, it broke.

“Don't touch me.” It was at dinner. Her voice was low, reactionary. There was a moment of silence, and she stared at her plate, breathless. Thinking. 

“Cassandra-” 

_ “What.” _ She’d made up her mind. Defiance had brought her here, when she was nineteen. If defiance would kill her...well, so be it. “Are you going to tell me how I should speak, too?”

“And if I do?”

“I won't listen.” It was so freeing to interrupt him, to challenge him. 

When he stood and pulled his wand, she did the same.

“I don't want to fight you, Cass.  _ Put your wand away. _ ”

“ _ Make me _ .” She stared him down, thinking about all the nights he had told her she was safe, when she woke up screaming. Thinking about the war, and her fear and love for him. Wondering what would he do, if she pushed him, just a little farther. 

He tried to disarm her, but she blocked it. A few more spells flew; a vase broke, something left a scorch mark on the wall. Soon enough, Cassie realized he wasn't trying to kill her, or even seriously injure her, just subdue her. Just get her to stop resisting. 

She pushed harder, trying to get him to break the act, to stop pretending he cared about her, waiting for the inevitable kill shot he’d fire without thinking…

It never came. Instead, she found herself leaning against a wall, catching her breath as he spun her taken wand between his fingers.

“It's over, Cass.” He pointed his own wand at her. “You will pay for that mistake, little pet.”

“Kill me, then,” she said, staring down his wand almost casually. “Do it. Kill me and replace me with a wife that will sit at your feet, who will never leave your side and will do everything and anything you say. _ I am not who you want! _ I can  _ never _ be who you want!”

It didn't seem to be what he expected, and he paused, his wand falling a bit as he thought this over.

“No.”

“No?” She blinked. No? A weight that she hadn’t known was on her chest lifted, her apathy for living gone in an instant. She had come so close. What had she just done? 

“No. I would not be able to replace you Cassandra.”

She shook her head, leaning harder on the wall, shaking, sweating, trying to understand what he had just said. “What-” she murmured.

“You have  _ quite _ the fire, pet. If I wanted a doll who nodded at my every word, I'd have married Bella. I admit, it was an appealing thought, but you, pet,  _ you _ were the superior choice. Stand up straight, Cass.” He held out her wand.

Cassie turned towards him, nervously accepting the offered wand. “If you liked my defiance so much, then why try to stamp it out?”

“To prevent you from running,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been considering it for months.”

“How did you- Is that what concerned you?” She laughed weakly. “I can't, I wouldn't- holding me hostage makes it  _ worse, _ how could you-” she closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “I don't want to leave you.”

“Oh?”

“No, My Lord, I lo-” she cut off abruptly, staring down at her feet. “You're aware of my feelings towards you,” she said at last.

“Yes.” 

Voldemort closed the gap between them, taking her chin in his hand, tilting her head up towards him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his wedding ring. He always wore it, even on some of those early nights when he never came home. A habit he’d ceased a while ago, she realized. 

“I do not love you, Cassandra. It's something I cannot do.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“ _ However, _ I do seem to have developed quite the soft spot for you. There is affection there. I daresay I’ve become... attached.”

Cassandra smirked at the word. “I'll take that just as well.”

“I certainly hope so, pet.”

 


End file.
